


deal with the devil

by bukkunmoonsin (bukkunkun)



Series: pavlovian [1]
Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Angry Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Condoms, Contracts, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Law School, Lawyers, M/M, Overstimulation, Resolved Sexual Tension, Riding, Rimming, Rival Sex, Rivalry, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 23:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16274594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunmoonsin
Summary: Sergio Osmeña has a rival, and there's only one way to deal with those:Have sex with him.Wait, what?





	deal with the devil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrejaPatata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrejaPatata/gifts).



> > wala na finish na im probalby gonna write honry quezmenas now i hate all of you
>> 
>> — spookkun Mapalad treasure hunt @ komiket (@trickscd) [6 October 2018](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/1048508772488859649?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> so. we're now here. in a law school au with a plot that's basically the ANG KALAT BUTTON MASH MEME and it's so self-indulgent that i don't feel like i have to explain myself. please enjoy my full horny abilities on full display.
> 
> dedicated to myself and also to my kumare [CrejaPatata](https://twitter.com/CrejaPatata) in particular because ikaw talaga gateway ko sa quezmena gagu labyu talaga mwahugs

“And so, that is why the defendant should—”

“What, you’re just going to ignore the obvious?”

Sergio didn’t quite like his outspoken classmate—the one who always interrupted sentences before he was allowed to speak. Usually, their professor would interrupt him with a curt warning, but today the man was quiet, watching them from the judge’s seat, and _shit,_ Sergio just _knew_ he messed up.

“I’m sure you know what you’re supposed to say if you want to go against the opposition’s statement.” The paralytic said, after a moment’s hesitation, when Sergio didn’t rise to the other young man’s bait.

Their class’s infuriating Golden Boy grinned at Sergio with that _irritatingly_ charming smile of his, and leaned into his personal space.

“Objection, Your Honour.” Oh, but his eyes were stuck on Sergio, and Sergio alone. It felt like he was undressing him with his eyes with how sticky his gaze was, but Sergio held his ground, tearing his eyes away from the Golden Boy to look at their professor.

“Sustained.” He said, eyebrow quirked, and the man’s smirk simply widened.

“The defendant has claimed his innocence by citing his alibi—he was having a good tumble in the sheets, it’s a grand old time.” He said, walking around with that patronizing stride of his, “There would be no way for him to have impregnated her within that time frame, making the child not his, even without checking the DNA profile.”

“Oh, by all means, do tell the court how you came up with _that_.” Sergio snapped, and the young man winked at him.

“Quezon _,_ ” their professor warned, already too used to this—

“Tell me, Mister Osmeña, when you cum, can you get it up immediately?”

“ _Quezon_.” The paralytic sighed, shaking his head. “Disqualified—”

“No, he has a point.” Sergio plowed on, and Quezon raised an eyebrow at him, still grinning that stupid, _charming_ grin, and oh, if he didn’t stop that, Sergio was going to kiss him. “The lag time between climaxes for men is considerable, and it _would_ be difficult for her to have raped him in that tiny window of opportunity.”

“Ah, so you agree—”

“That is, if he wasn’t drugged.” Sergio _knew_ he was smirking, oh _god,_ he just _knew_ he was mirroring the one on Quezon’s face right now. “If you’re forgetting, Mister Quezon, it’s rather unheard of a man of your likeness to have forgotten.” He tapped the folder he was holding on the defendant’s bench.

“Ketamine is a date rape drug used frequently by men against women, but who is to say that it cannot be used the other way around?” He continued. “Not to mention, viagra was also thrown into the mix, and it almost cost him a fatal heart attack. They were _trying_ to marathon something that night, and it’s that carelessness that brought this case to light today.”

He felt something rush inside him—the thrill of a winning argument, the thrill that he just beat the Golden Boy at his own stupid, sexual mind games—

When Quezon chuckled, shaking his head fondly.

“That’s _hot._ ”

“Alright, that is _enough._ ”

Their professor banged his gavel, looking put-out by the two young men in front of him. “Mister Quezon, I expected better of you after that initial warning, and Mister Osmeña, it escapes my mind to hear that _you,_ of all people, would keep up with him in _this_ fashion.”

Quezon winked at him, and Sergio ignored him.

“I’m sorry, Attorney Mabini.” He said, bowing slightly, and the paralytic sighed, shaking his head. “I got… carried away.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Quezon snickered.

“ _Nonong._ ” Mabini snapped, and the boy silenced himself, but he was still smiling. “That’s enough. Thank you, the both of you, you may go now. Next pair?”

Sergio was quick to turn away from the paralytic, packing up his things in a hurry, when Quezon sidled up next to him, eyebrow raised at him coyly as he simply stood there, watching Sergio pack his things up.

It got unsettling after a while, and pointedly ignoring the buzzing of his phone from a Facebook messenger notification, Sergio whirled around to look at him.

“What do you want?” He deadpanned, and the young man winked at him.

“Thought maybe you needed a demonstration of what a refractory time would _really_ be like.” He leered, and Sergio had had _enough_ of that. With a huff, he brushed him off and strode past him, striding away from the moot courtroom. Quezon watched him leave—rather, his eyes were pointed lower, and he only looked away when his adoptive father threw his gavel base at him.

Sergio didn’t care—not right now, anyway. He hurried away, feeling his cheeks grow hot in embarrassment as he turned corners this way and that, vainly trying to get rid of the feeling of that young man’s piercing gaze on him.

Their batch’s Golden Boy—Manuel L. Quezon. A serial ladykiller, a brilliant mind hidden behind a pervert’s leer. Sergio knew what he was capable of—if he had been any more serious with his studies, he could have even rivalled his adoptive father, having been the only one of a brood of three sons who entered the same field as the great Apolinario Mabini had.

Manuel had the rest of his life planned out for him, all the greatness paved out like the road to hell and good intentions, and Sergio squeezed his eyes shut.

Oh, fuck him, he thought. He could get through law school and be on top by his _own_ merit, too.

And if debating with him was going to start being such a turn on, Sergio wasn’t going to comment on it.

He pulled up his phone contacts, blushing, and immediately sent a text.

“ _Serging?_ ” A call pushed through moments right after that, and Sergio sighed, leaning against the wall in a small nook in the hallways. “ _What’s wrong? You okay?_ ”

Manuel Roxas, the _other_ Manuel in his life. Fellow law schoolmate—boyfriend.

Admittedly much more stale than the Golden Boy himself, but then again, when you tried comparing _anyone_ with someone nicknamed the Golden Boy, who could ever even _hope_ to compare?

“Um, I wanna meet up.” He said, and he was answered with a confused sound on the other side of the line.

“ _What do you mean?_ ”

“I-I, um.” Oh, _now_ he starts feeling embarrassed. “It’s a booty call.”

“ _Oh! H-heh, nice. Be at my apartment in a few?_ ”

“You’re not busy, aren’t you.” Sergio deadpanned, laughing softly, and Manuel laughed on the other side.

“ _Not when you suddenly call me just for that._ ” He replied warmly, “ _See you soon!_ ”

“See you.”

As Sergio hung up, he thought bitterly, it wasn’t exactly a bad thing if Manuel never found out _which_ Manuel he was talking about when they were fucking, was it?

* * *

“You’re lucky Mister Osmeña isn’t filing sexual harassment charges against you.” Mabini deadpanned, as he and his son made their way down the hallways to head to their family car, where the rest of their little odds-and-ends of a family waited for them. “Your conduct this morning at your midterms in the moot court, while admirable—”

“Could you talk to me as my dad for just a second?” Manuel sighed, and Mabini hit him lightly. He flinched, but the man rolled his eyes fondly and patted his son’s hand on the handlebars of his wheelchair.

“Nonong,” he said, softer this time, “I admire your way of thinking. It’s very out of the box, and you’ve done very well today. The rest of the jury agree.”

At that, Manuel smiled softly, but then Mabini reached up to tug at his cheek.

“But, _young man,_ you were being _very_ inappropriate, and Mister Osmeña had to meet you halfway if he had any hope of keeping up. That was _extremely_ underhanded of you to do, to start firing off with the sexual innuendos—what are you, your older brothers?”

At that, Manuel couldn’t help but laugh, and he shook his head.

“No, sir.” he replied. “Not a theatre actor or a professional gamer.”

“Thought so.” Mabini huffed. “And neither are you supposed to be a notorious flirt. You’ve seen what Goyong and Julian get themselves into.”

“Well,” Manuel began, and the paralytic looked at him with that Look Manuel and his brothers had started to refer with a capitalised word. “Oh, come on, _Itay—_ ”

“I will not have you getting yourself into trouble because of past lovers, _bunso_.” Mabini’s smile was knowing, and Manuel hated knowing why.

If his brothers had used the _bunso_ argument, that would have earned them a fist to the arm each, but when his _Itay_ Pole did it—there was no way he could say no.

Let it be said that Manuel was a man of few weaknesses—quezo de bola of any iteration, beautiful people, and most of all—

Family. If there was something Manuel treasured the most, it was family.

Especially his beloved father and idol, the legendary Sublime Paralytic of the Public Attorney’s Office, Apolinario Mabini.

“That’s cheating.” He pouted instead, and the man laughed as they made their way out of the exit to make a beeline for a black Ford Everest in the driveway, hazard lights blinking orange-gold in the early evening sun.

“It’s called efficiency.”

“It’s called an ad hominem attack.” Manuel huffed, and Mabini laughed into his fist as the car’s rear door swung open.

Inside, his brother Gregorio lit up when he saw them, jumping right out of the car to head over to the two of them, hugging Mabini first before ruffling Manuel’s hair. The younger man laughed, pulling away as he swatted at Gregorio’s hands in protest, and he grinned at him.

“What’s the good mood for?” Mabini asked, but he let his sons carry him up into the passenger seat of the car.

“I got a new endorsement deal.” Gregorio winked at them, and Mabini hummed, nodding with a smile.

“That’s wonderful.”

“It’s just because you’re so pretty.” Manuel muttered darkly, but he got into the front seat, next to their leering driver, the eldest of the three—Julian. “What’ve you been up to, _kuya?_ ”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Julian stuck his tongue out at him and Manuel made a show of rolling his eyes.

“Where’s your father?” Mabini asked, and Julian looked up at him through the rear view mirror.

“Still at the office. We’re about to head there to pick him up.” He replied, “And then we’re dropping me off.”

“Who’s driving?” Manuel looked excited, but Julian rolled his eyes at him.

“ _Tatay,_ of course.” He said, and Manuel frowned at him, crossing his arms. “Oh, shut up.”

Mabini shook his head, and looked out the window as Gregorio came in from loading his wheelchair in the back.

“Goyong,” He said quietly, as the car began to move. His second son hummed, leaning against his side, and the paralytic huffed fondly. “What would you do if our little _bunso_ got a lover?”

“That’s an interesting question.” Gregorio replied, but he was grinning. “Tell me _everything_ about it.”

“Later.” Mabini chuckled. “Your father will want to hear about this, too.”

* * *

“The defendant had already sent in an affidavit deposing this subject just the last week, pleading guilty to two felonies—the breach of contract, and negligence to provide return service. Therefore, there is no need to chase after the rest of the case, despite the insistence of the plaintiff.”

There was a catch here, somewhere. Sergio frowned as the rest of the class stayed silent. Across the room, the Golden Boy was also quiet, frowning thoughtfully into his thumbnail worried between his teeth as he considered the case presented to them.

“Or is there?” Their professor—an engineer-turned-lawyer named Jose Alejandrino was smiling, and Sergio still couldn’t quite tell what the man’s smile meant.

He always had that not-smile-yes-smile on his face, like a Christmas grand-uncle who knew what you wanted, but still coyly refuses to tell you what’s in the box.

Should he rise to this bait? It wasn’t like this was cut and dry—none of the cases they studied in Alejandrino’s classes were—but he knew, if he did _something—_

“There isn’t.” Manuel raised his hand, and the class swivelled around to look at him.

“Why so, Mister Quezon?” Alejandrino asked, and Manuel, still looking serious as ever, cleared his throat.

“While in the first place, a spoken agreement is not legally binding, the plaintiff already reserves the right to withdraw from the contract, and with a settlement in the agreement, there should already be no need to waste resources on an already-decided ruling.”

Shit, that should _not_ have been that _hot,_ but it was.

Alejandrino hummed, and nodded. “That is indeed correct. As was the settlement between Puno and Dy, that was exactly how it went.”

The class burst into amazed murmurs, and Manuel grinned, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned back in his seat.

“However, Mister Quezon, next time, please stand up when you are reciting.” Alejandrino chuckled. “Am I understood?”

“Sure, sir.” Manuel replied, and there it was again—that cocksure smirk that had Sergio’s gut turning in that odd sense of pleasure—and Manuel turned to look at him, now smirking at _him_ rather than Alejandrino.

Sergio would like to believe that he didn’t hold his breath as their eyes met, but Manuel slowly licked his lips, and he tore his eyes away, cheeks hotter than ever.

“Alright, next case.” Alejandrino declared, “And this time, let’s have someone _other_ than Mister Quezon answer, alright?” He chuckled, and turned to the next sheet of paper in his hand.

Sergio wanted to listen, oh _god_ did he want to listen, but he was too disturbed by the memory of Manuel speaking, that clear, confident voice that rang through the classroom like a bell-chime, and _shit,_ the sight of him licking his lips—

“Mister Osmeña?”

Sergio jolted, and he looked up at Alejandrino, who offered him a kind smile. “As Miss Abenojar said, the defendant may have been framed for a crime he didn’t commit. Which of the evidences I’ve presented do you think proves that?”

“U-um,” Sergio took a hesitant breath, and got up onto his feet. Nothing wrong with asking for a clarification, right? “Could I have them again, please? There’s quite a few.”

“Ah, do I talk too quickly?” Alejandrino looked through his notes again, “Here, again:”

Oh, thank _god_ he could bluff worth a damn. Sergio found himself half-listening, half looking over at Manuel, who, much to his surprise, was also listening intently.

Huh, he thought. He was at least _serious_ about this.

“The plaintiff is awfully insistent on the timing.” He replied after a moment’s consideration. “So insistent, one might think—”

“A bit prejudiced there, Mister Osmeña?” Manuel cut in, and Sergio pursed his lips in annoyance, but didn’t turn to look at him. “The plaintiff could be just being careful, who knows?”

“They’re being insistent, because of how impossibly perfect the timing was.” Sergio snapped, and he missed the way Manuel smirked slowly at him. “The gaps between the times provided are in the Fibonacci sequence—skipping the first two digits, so that’s two, three, five. 10:32, 10:35, and then 10:40? Who works like that? With such picture-perfect efficiency?”

“Maybe it’s serendipitous.” Manuel got up from his seat, and Sergio could barely notice the rest of the class burst into hushed murmurs. The Golden Boy crossed his arms and smirked at him, and _shit,_ there he went again, licking those absolutely _awful_ lips, and oh, how Sergio wanted to kiss him senseless. “Digital cameras don’t lie.”

“Nor are they permanent.” Sergio shot back. “If there’s something odd about the testimony, then if anything, it’s the Mickey TsumTsum in the corner of the room.”

“The… TsumTsum.” Manuel’s smirk fell off his face, and it shouldn’t have have felt _that_ good, but it did.

“The little girl’s testimony—” shit, he’d forgotten her name, oh well, “—declared that that evening, she had settled in with her favourite plush, and yet in the CCTV footage, it was only there for a moment’s notice before it disappeared.”

Manuel was quiet, and Sergio couldn’t stop.

“So where is it, if the timing was as perfect as they declared?” He asked, “Where’s the big, round friend on her bed?”

“Ah, that’s absolutely brilliant, Mister Osmeña.” Alejandrino clapped, and Sergio whirled around to look at Alejandrino, smiling at him as he nodded. “That is correct—the testimony itself was too perfectly structured. Later on it was found to have been generated by a bot, and poorly edited by a human, later. Thank you, Mister Osmeña, you may take your seat. You too, Mister Quezon.”

Sergio sunk to his seat, and finally realised he had said the words ‘Mickey TsumTsum’ out loud, and that he had said it to completely shell-shock Manuel into silence.

Well, _shit._ He never knew he had a power kink.

He turned to look at Manuel, who finally wasn’t looking at him, and instead at his phone. Sergio let out a sigh, and slumped back in his seat.

Nah, actually—if he thought about it, it was kind of hard to notice the power kink when his _other_ Manuel just always said yes to what he wanted.

There was just… _something else_ when it came to actually _fighting_ for it.

The class went on as it usually did—but it felt so painfully _long._ Sergio felt like he was anxious, skittish to get back on the phone with his Manuel for another quickie when he was suddenly approached by the Golden Boy the moment the class was dismissed.

“Osmeña.”

“Quezon.”

There was something to be said about the fact that Manuel Quezon carried with him his old surname, and not his parents’, Aguinaldo-Mabini.

Actually, none of their sons did, now that he thought about it—Julian and Gregorio del Pilar kept their names, and all, and Sergio only had an inkling as to why. Still, that wasn’t pertinent right now—not when _oh my god_ did Quezon smell so good, so damn handsome and sophisticated—

Expensive. The term he was looking for was expensive.

“Can I have a word with you?” Manuel asked, and Sergio swallowed nervously.

“Of course.”

He pulled his bag up onto his shoulder, and their gazes on each other didn’t break, unmindful of Alejandrino’s mildly amused ‘ _behave yourselves, boys_ ’ as they strode out of the classroom together.

* * *

“ _Nnh!_ ”

They said when a snowball rolled down a mountain, by the time it reached the bottom it was an avalanche.

Not that Sergio would know how that _exactly_ felt like, not ever having even _seen_ snow, but he certainly knew what to expect _of_ an avalanche, if the redubbed documentaries on the TV that was in his usual lunch _carinderia_ was anything to go on.

Powerful, breathtaking. Easily sweeps you away.

Much like the way Manuel Quezon was.

Powerful in voice, breathtaking in mind.

Easily swept up Sergio by the lapels to press him _hard_ against the wall to kiss him senseless.

And here, Sergio thought it was just _him_ that was angry and horny.

His hands shot up to pull Manuel’s face closer, tangling his fingers in those perfect, perfect locks to mess them up like he had always wished to, swallowing the man’s groan into his mouth. He sling his leg around Manuel to yank the rest of him closer, pushing himself impossibly tightly against the wall that he almost thought he could squeeze out every last ounce of air inside him. Growling, Manuel indulged him, pressing forward against Sergio’s body with a full-bodied shudder, and Sergio could feel his hard-on poking his crotch, where his own arousal began to show interest.

As with all people do, they needed air—and they pulled away from each other not too long after that.

“What—what the—” Sergio tried to say, but Manuel swept forward to kiss him deeply again. It was cheesy, but he had to admit it made his toes curl as Manuel took advantage of his open mouth to slide his tongue inside, mapping him out like a conqueror storming pristine land to make his own.

 _Ooh,_ the thought made him tingly. He didn’t like that.

Sergio fought back, teasingly blocking Manuel’s tongue in every turn it made, and his hands, still in his hair, suddenly pulled the young man’s head back, earning him a pleased groan from the Golden Boy pinning him to the wall.

“ _Shit,_ that’s hot.” He hissed, panting, though he made no move to pull his head away from Sergio’s hand.

“What the _hell_ is this?” Sergio asked, but he was panting too, his heartbeat skyrocketing when Manuel laughed, breathless and _oh so horny._

“You tell me, _Serging_ ,” he smirked, and Sergio narrowed his eyes at him. “How is it that you make yourself so stupidly _hot_ when you pick fights with me?”

“No one else would.” Sergio replied, unbelieving that was _him_ speaking, and finally Manuel pulled his head away from Sergio’s loose grip.

“Yeah?” He huffed, leaning back into Sergio’s personal space. “So why did _you_ do it?”

“Someone has to put the brat in his place.” He hissed back, and—yeah. This was _definitely_ his dick talking now. Well done, Serging down there. “Little Mister Golden Boy? Looks to me like you’re just a brat who thinks you’re so much better than everyone else.”

To be fair to Manuel—he _was_ one of the higher scorers in their batch. He performed exceptionally well, with skill and grace that didn’t fall too far away from his legendary lawyer father, and in all honesty, barring the whole… _attitude,_ Sergio would have found himself admiring him. Idolising him, even.

Hell, he wouldn’t even think of kissing Manuel senseless had it not for that _irritating_ attitude of his, and the fact it was a turn-on probably spoke volumes about what kind of a person that made Sergio.

Manuel’s smirk was nowhere near offended—if anything, Sergio’s words only seemed to make him even _more_ turned on than he already was.

“Shit, that’s _hot._ ”

“Do you turn into a Neanderthal who can only talk in tiny sentences— _ooh._ ”

Manuel ground their crotches together, and _yep,_ definitely. Sergio could feel Manuel’s full hard-on through their slacks, his own clothed erection angry and hot rubbing against it with such delicious _friction._

“Mm, say that again?” Manuel chuckled darkly into his ear, and Sergio shivered as he felt his tongue dip into the shell of his ear.

Damn it, Manuel—he was getting _close_ and this was about as close as he would get with actual touching and fooling around, not—not— _frotting and dirty talk._

 _Christ._ What was Manuel on that he could end up this fragile so god damn _easily?_

“I _said,_ ” Sergio bit out, “Do you think with your dick or with your head, Golden Boy?” He ground against Manuel’s bearing weight on him, and the other man hissed in pleasure as he humped him back, their breaths growing short in the narrow little space they slotted themselves in—a nearly-always empty little alleyway in the corridors that only led to the janitor’s closet.

The fact that they could get _caught_ suddenly caught up with the both of them, and Manuel kissed him _hard,_ again, muffling their little abortive moans as they frotted against each other against the wall.

Oh, my _god,_ he was so close—

Sergio pulled away from him, slapping his hand over his mouth as Manuel moved down his throat, and he only had barely enough brainpower in him to choke out—

“N- _no marks!_ ”

Manuel pulled away from him, smirking as he raised an eyebrow at him.

“What’s this all about?”

Now was probably the worst time to say it.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Oh, _fuck it._

Manuel laughed darkly, and something _terrible_ tingled at the small of Sergio’s back.

“Well, an hour in the nearby motel can probably fix that.” He replied, taking Sergio’s hand in his. “How about it, _Serging?_ How’s this for a nice little arrangement?”

“Arrangement.” Sergio echoed. “ _This._ ”

“Oh, come on. You and I know there’s something going on here, we both need to blow off steam.” Manuel shook his head. “An arrangement.”

“We’ll sort it out on paper later.” Sergio couged delicately, and Manuel’s smirk widened.

Like a cat that got the cream.

“Of course, Attorney.” He replied, “All contracts have are legally binding—you’re not backing out any time soon, are you?”

“I’ll make you say that first.” Sergio replied, and Manuel stole one last toe-curling kiss before he yanked him along.

* * *

Sergio sometimes wondered if the title Golden Boy was given to him because of his wonderful little head, or because of the wonderful way he _gave_ head. Or ate ass.

 _Damn,_ was the only thing on his mind when Manuel moved right from eating him out to sucking him off right after he came, and all Sergio could do was lie back in the slightly scratchy covers of the hotel bed, wrists bound together by Manuel’s expensive silk tie.

Oh, he just came but _damn_ if he wasn’t hard again, especially with the way Manuel’s tongue swirled around his prick, and—

“ _A-ah! Manuel!_ ”

His fingers slid inside his slick, wet hole, scissoring him open, and oh _god_ it felt like too much and too little all at the same time. He was still high on his orgasm, still oversensitive from the climax, but it felt too _good_ to stop.

Shit, he could get used to the sight of that handsome face by his dick, those smartass lips wrapped around his cock.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice whispered, _the other Manuel just couldn’t compare._

Well, there was very little that could compare to a hot-and-cold sexy relationship with your rival, but Sergio couldn’t quite think that far yet.

Manuel pulled off him with a smirk, giving his cock a tortuous, teasing tug, and Sergio winced, flinching as pleasure and pain mixed in a dangerous, addictive cocktail.

“Nonong, babe. Call me Nonong in bed, makes it more personal.”

“You brat.” Sergio shot back, but he quickly melted into putty in Manuel’s hands when his fingers crooked to abuse his prostate again.

He’d milked it hard, not too long ago, eating him out as he jacked him off, and now there they were again, those _devilish,_ golden fingers, getting Sergio to open up to him so easily.

“Mm, you love it.”

He hated that Manuel was right, but all Sergio was willing to give him was a stifled groan.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

“W-wait, condoms—”

He didn’t expect to let out that sound that was _most definitely a whine_ when Manuel pulled away from him, and he slapped his hands over his mouth as Manuel made his way over to the bedside stand, where his wallet lay discarded.

“Yeah, I know.” He could _hear_ the smirk in Manuel’s voice as he fished out a condom—and then unfurled it to reveal three more. “How about it?”

“You’re asking me?” Sergio deadpanned, and the Golden Boy shrugged, turning around as he took one packet to tear it open with his teeth. Sergio pulled a hiss through his teeth at the sight—damn, not even _his_ Manuel looked _that_ attractive tearing open a condom packet—and Manuel chuckled, joining him back on the bed.

“Hey, I prefer enthusiastic partners who know what they’re getting themselves into.” He said, brushing the back of his fingers over Sergio’s cheek. “Even pretty little rivals like you.”

“How gentlemanly of you.” Sergio deadpanned, taking the condom from Manuel’s hand, and the man cocked his head at him. “I have until our class with Attorney Mabini at 7. Exhaust as much of these as you can until then.”

“Is that a challenge?” Manuel smirked.

“Only if you brush your teeth first, after this.” Sergio replied, and put the condom between his lips.

“Huh? Serging, what’s—”

Sergio pushed Manuel back to lie down on the bed, and slid down his body. That smooth slide of skin against skin punched a groan from his throat, which dissolved into a shout of alarm when Sergio rolled the condom onto his cock with his mouth.

“Oh, my god,” Manuel smirked, reaching forward to stroke Sergio’s hair as he moved his head up to meet his gaze. “You do that to your boyfriend a lot?”

“Not really.” Sergio lied. “He’s not that adventurous.” That part, at least, was true.

“You sure felt like a pro to me.” Manuel leered, pulling him up by his wrist. “Wanna ride me, then? Seeing as I’m already down here…”

“I _said_ I’d put you in your place, didn’t I?” Sergio deadpanned, “Sit, Golden Boy. Hands to the bed, and _I_ get to say when you get to cum, am I clear?”

“Crystal.” Manuel smirked, and brought his hands up to rest next to his head on the pillow.

Sergio rolled his eyes, and carefully aligned himself with Manuel’s cock. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done this before—a virgin he was not, in fact, it was the _last_ thing he was—but he only ever took his boyfriend’s cock inside him, and this was completely new.

Well, he wasn’t about to back down _now._ And with _him,_ of all people.

Sergio sunk down on Manuel’s cock, and bit back a gasp of shock as he felt it breach him, unfamiliar and wide. Contrary to what Sergio told him, Manuel’s hands quickly shot down to hold him steady by his hips, squeezing and stroking gently to keep him relaxed as Sergio choked on air, blinking moisture out of his eyes.

“C’mon, that’s it,” he could hear Manuel say, gently—softly. “Slowly, don’t take it all in.”

“Y-you—”

“Hey, it’s gotta be good for you, too. C’mon.”

Sergio squeezed his eyes shut as he nodded, and slowly waited for himself to adjust before sinking down the rest of the way. The whole time through, Manuel didn’t rush him, simply stayed soft and supportive and patient, and something sat in Sergio’s chest, settling like a cat that had finally chosen its favourite place to nap.

When Manuel was fully inside, the two men let out breaths they didn’t realise they were holding, and Manuel grinned up at Sergio.

“Serging,” he said, nuzzling the other man’s chin. “I thought you said you were gonna put me in my place.”

“Nonong, you _ass._ ”

And suddenly the tender moment was gone, and they went from making love to fucking again.

Sergio bounced himself desperately on Manuel’s cock while the other man struggled to stay still underneath him, and much to Sergio’s surprise, it didn’t take long for Manuel to break.

“Serging—please, I wanna—please, let me—”

Contrary to what Manuel wanted, though, Sergio slowed down, and the man positively _whined,_ sending a shiver of pleasure bolting down Sergio’s back.

“Have you been a good boy?” He smirked, lifting Manuel’s faceby his chin, and the man smirked up at him.

“I dunno, have I?” He asked, “Haven’t touched you since then.”

Sergio decided to ignore the way Manuel held him carefully as he eased himself onto his cock, the same way Manuel had decided to ignore it too.

“Hmm, I suppose.” He hummed, and leered down at him. “What do we say?”

Manuel rolled his eyes fondly.

“The defense requests the opposing legal team to permit any further action to bring us to completion.”

Sergio almost laughed—almost.

“Objection.” He replied.

“Overruled.” Manuel shot back, snickering. “C’mon, Serging, you’re giving me blue balls.”

“Oh, _really._ ”

“Hell, yeah, you beautiful thing.” Manuel winked, and Sergio was surprised to realise that he still had it in himself to blush, even with Manuel’s cock inside him and all. “That’s a weakness of mine—beautiful people.”

“I’m sure there are others I can exploit somehow.” Sergio replied. “But for now, _fine._ ”

Manuel quirked an eyebrow at him, grinning, and Sergio rolled his eyes.

“The prosecution consents to further action.” He said, but was immediately swept into a flurry of movement, when Manuel grabbed him by his hips to lift him off his dick. “H-hey, wait—n-no marks!”

“Then you gotta help me out, Serging.” Manuel leaned forward to kiss and lick at the jumping pulse point in Sergio’s throat, and he relished the shiver it got him. “Ride me, c’mon, baby, you can do it.”

Sergio let out a small groan, and did as he was told.

The sound of skin slapping skin, Sergio’s aborted, muffled moans behind his palm pressed to his mouth, Manuel’s choppy, pleased exhales punctuated the creak of the bed as they ground against each other, drawing closer and closer to completion—

“Nonong,” Sergio gasped, and the man laughed against the skin of his throat.

“Can’t kiss you,” he said, “Ate your ass, remember?”

That earned him a slap to the side of the head, and Manuel couldn’t help but laugh, despite the building pleasure of his orgasm threatening to push him over the edge.

“Shit, I’m close,” He breathed, leaning up to nibble at Sergio’s ear, and Sergio clenched around him, drawing out a moan from Manuel. “ _Serging._ ”

“Me too—Nonong, me too—”

Manuel reached down to grasp Sergio’s neglected cock, and it only took a few tugs before the man came with a soft, high-pitched whine, spilling white over their stomachs, and Manuel was quick to follow, burying himself _deep_ inside Sergio as he came into the condom.

They fell still, panting into the silence of the hotel room, and gingerly, Manuel pulled out of him. Sergio winced as his cock slid out, and he slumped down on the bed with a tired sigh.

Whistling pleasantly, Manuel tied off the condom and tossed it into the bin, before getting up to head to the bathroom.

“Aren’t you gonna clean me up?” Sergio called after him, and Manuel winked at him over his shoulder.

“Just rest up, beautiful.” He said, “I’m just gonna brush my teeth.”

“Brush your teeth?” Sergio blinked at him blearily, and Manuel’s grin was positively _devilish._

“Round two, remember?” He replied, “We’ve got a whole line of foil packets to burn through.”

* * *

“And? What else is there you can notice?”

Sergio watched as Manuel listed off more details of the evidence that admittedly, even _he_ missed out on, and he wondered why Mabini was drilling him harder than usual.

The paralytic was looking at his adoptive son with a critical hawkeye that made Sergio feel like he was a mouse in an eagle’s sights, even though the eagle had its eyes on a much larger rabbit to feast on. It almost felt like as his father, Mabini just somehow _knew_ Sergio and Manuel were fucking not too long ago, and _oh man_ was this embarrassing.

He shouldn’t have let his mouth run like that earlier, but damn if the sex wasn’t satisfying.

They’d managed to fit two more rounds in—hah, so they _did_ manage to finish the three condoms—and made it to class with enough time to spare. In their haste to get their clothes off, Sergio had missed a few calls from his other Manuel asking him over for lunch, but he had sent back messages of apology and reassurance—

 _‘Sorry, I had a sudden engagement.’_ and, _‘I’ll be eating quite a bit this afternoon, but I promise I’ll have dinner with you.’_

Blatant lies—of sorts, Sergio had _definitely_ had his mouth full earlier—but there was an even bigger lie he said after, in a quick phone call before Mabini’s class started, Manuel already inside.

“ _Yeah, sorry, I know, I had my phone on silent. Yeah. Love you._ ”

Love you, he’d said.

He wasn’t sure if he deserved to say that after having the most amazing sex he’d ever had with his law school _rival._

Well, what was done was _done,_ and somehow Manuel made it through his father’s drilling recitation on him, passing satisfactorily. Sergio didn’t know why he felt the need to worry.

The rest of the class went on normally—interestingly, with Mabini making no move to have Sergio or Manuel interact too much, glossing over Sergio’s raised hand and outright _ignoring_ his son in favour of other people. By the end of it, Sergio already felt terrible—he’d probably ruined some family bond between father and son, but Manuel approached him with a wide grin, a paper in his hand.

“I’m in _big_ trouble tonight.” He grinned, setting the paper down in front of Sergio.

“I’m really sorry—”

“Oh, it’s no big deal.” Manuel shook his head, “ _Itay_ Pole’s always been like that.” He winked at Sergio, and gestured at the paper. “Give it a look over. I’ll be expecting a prompt response within the business week, Mister Osmeña.”

Sergio looked down at the paper, and choked back a laugh.

“Is this… did you take a page out of _Fifty Shades of Grey?_ ”

“Shut up,” Manuel pouted petulantly, crossing his arms. “I at least respect you more than Grey did Anastasia.”

Sergio laughed into his fist, and missed the way Manuel’s eyes softened on him.

“You weirdo, I was just joking.” He shook his head, getting up to offer his hand to Manuel. “I’ll get back to you soon for any corrections, additional provisions I’d like to add, or any revisions to be made.”

“Of course.” Manuel nodded, and took his hand to shake it. “It’s a deal, Mister Osmeña.”

“A deal, Mister Quezon.” He nodded, and it felt like making a deal with a devil wearing an angel’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> i still have to write jovente.....


End file.
